


my heart is breathing for this

by chasingflower



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Boggarts, M/M, Not Really Character Death, attack of the commas, im sorry it's all just angst, there is blood fyi, yall i am so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-16 12:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingflower/pseuds/chasingflower
Summary: Prompt: You know you’re screwed when the Mirror of Erised and a boggart both show you the same person.Steve Rogers never stood a chance.





	my heart is breathing for this

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry about the absolute doozy that is this fic, hopefully I will be able to supply you all with something much happier in the future (let's hope). I really hope you like it, it means a lot!! <3 <3
> 
> This is based off a tumblr post, so I take absolutely no credit for the idea at all. 
> 
> title from moments by one direction

It wasn’t anything new. Steve’s seen his boggart multiple times before (not that it gets any better, or that the shock goes away) so he knows what to expect. He’s seen all of the tricks, heard everything it would have to say to rip him apart even more than it has already.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Steve goes into his room one drafty afternoon, mindlessly putting things away. He opens his drawers, picks up the blankets from the floor, and opens his closest to put something away.

He only knows something is wrong when he hears the rasping breath of his dead best friend.

Steve spins around, eyes wet and fearful, as he takes in the scene before him.

The boggart (for he will not call it Bucky, no matter the likeness) is sprawled on his floor, blood leaking from his left arm, staining his white carpet. The boggart’s eyes are clenched shut, and it makes pained moans and groans that are all too painful to listen to. Its skin is clammy and its right arm is fisted into the carpet, and he’s biting his lip in what Steve thinks is an effort to prevent itself from screaming.

Steve knows, deep in his bones, that the image in front of him isn’t Bucky. But his heart, his stupid, bleeding heart, doesn’t give a damn, and he lets out a choked sob and falls to his knees. “Bucky,” he says, gasping, and he pushes Bucky’s hair off of his forehead.

Bucky’s breathing stutters, his chest jerking up, and Steve doesn’t know what to do other than cry.

“Shh, hey, Buck, it’s okay, you’re going to be fine.” He swallows around the lump in his throat and he gets closer; he gets to the point where if he wanted he could move him into his lap.

Bucky moans, low and rough, and a hoarse, “Steve,” is what comes out.

While Steve is floundering about after having heard Bucky say his name (for some time during the ordeal, Steve had forgotten that it was a boggart in the first place), Bucky tries again, and rasps out, “St- Steve. Steve. Don’t – don’t-” but is cut off by the racking cough that shutters through him.

Steve, wild with thoughtless worry, has decided to hold him in his arms as a way to soothe the both of them for what they knew was going to happen.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Buck. I won’t leave, I promise.” And even though his voice is thick with tears, Bucky somehow manages to understand the words.

Bucky looks at him and grapples with his right hand for purchase on Steve’s collar. His pupils are blown wide, and his skin is three shades too light where it’s at the point that it’s practically translucent, emphasizing the bruise-like bags under his eyes. His lips are both chapped and stained with blood that he’s coughed up, and Steve’s heart gives an uneasy lurch forward. Bucky opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. “Steve,” he says, and his heart is beating unsynchronized, “Steve, I,” but he’s struggling, (for air, Steve thinks and his heart nearly stops) so Steve hushes him again and rubs circles into his shoulder and presses a shaky kiss to his temple. 

The kiss must give him some unknown or unexplainable energy boost, because Bucky’s gasping again and his eyes are wide open and his grip is far more unforgiving than before. “Steve,” he says with as much conviction a person can have as they’re gasping for breath. He continues, “Steve, f-fuck, I love,” he turns his head to the side and spits out a mouthful of blood, before turning back and looks Steve directly in the eyes. “I love you, I l-love you, I love y-you,” he says, repeating the words that he had never said while he was alive.

This was all it took for Steve to know that everything was false. Because while he loved Bucky, God, he was still in love with him, his trip to the Mirror of Erised back in his sixth year plastered into his memory (of them being _happy_ – but then again, they always have been, always were – the crux of the matter was that he saw the two of them together). But Bucky was not, had not, ever in love with him. He couldn’t have been.

But because Steve is selfish, he imagines for himself that it could be true and allows himself to sob the same words back at him. “God, Buck –” he starts, voice shaking and his vision blurs. “You’ve - you’ve got to know that I’ve always loved you. Bucky, I love you so much –” and his words get stuck in his throat. He swallows past the lump in his throat and tries again – because maybe if Steve says it enough he will know, and –

Bucky, delirious, grins through his pain and reaches his arm out and touches Steve’s cheek, streaking it with blood. He opens his mouth (and his teeth are stained red) and says weakly, “Steve,” before his eyes glaze over and his hand falls limply to the side.

Steve is unaware of everything after that moment, only focused on the whiting out of his vision and the rich crimson soaking in to the carpet and the slippery feeling in his hands.

He’s unaware as his door opens, of a soft voice whispering, “Riddikulus,” and of the body of his friend vanishing before his eyes (much like it had the first time). He’s helped to his feet and shushed himself; to which he replies with a hoarse, “Bucky,” and the name cracks down the center. He’s vaguely aware that there’s no blood anywhere, but he’s too busy sobbing to care.

He’s helped into his room and out of his shirt, and afterwards a light kiss is brushed against his forehead. “Shh, Steve, shh. Go to sleep, everything will be okay in the morning.”

He doesn’t believe this, but doesn’t fight her, and soon he’s drifting, faster and more thoroughly than he would have thought possible.

+++

He wakes up and Peggy tells him that Bucky’s alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! My tumblr is @evahmohns <3


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